


just like a star

by nurul



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Multi, Stardust AU, loosely anyway
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:41:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13846440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nurul/pseuds/nurul
Summary: Kise Ryouta was a star. He has made thousands of people he has never even met fall for him.But he believes that none of them could ever shine as brightly as Aomine Daiki.





	1. Chapter 1

Kise Ryouta was born to be a star. Everywhere he goes, people are naturally drawn to his light. Drawn to every smile he puts on for the camera, to the halo around his light hair, not unlike a moth to a flame. He was made for it, they had said; made to be adored, bathed in the spotlight.

“He’s really got a knack for it, doesn’t he?” Mizuka beamed at a version of Ryouta on screen. “And his fan club is amazing.”

“Yeah, a knack for being a pain in my fucking ass.” Ayu twisted the lid of her thermos flask shut with renewed viciousness. “Ryouta! We have to fucking go! Now!”

“Go away!” Ryouta yelled back from beneath his blankets.

“If you don’t move your fucking ass by the time I finish this sentence, I swear to god, I’ll tell dad–“

“Good morning, my favourite big sister of all time, best human, best manager, best cook --”

“Fuck! Did you even brush your fucking teeth! Bitch, get off!”

“Both of you are so stupid,” Mizuka sniffed. “Dad probably wouldn’t even bother anyway. They’re finally having a great time away just the two of them for the first time in… ever. Don’t even know why you’re still so scared of him, tch. Dad’s a softie. And I’m cooking today, so you should be calling _me_ the best cook.”

“Ryoko might have nice, soft name,” said Ryouta, even as he continued to cling to an extremely disgruntled Ayu. “Some would even call it girly. But softie, he is not.”

Mizuka giggled. “You better not let him hear you say that.”

Eventually, Ayu finally managed to throw Ryouta off her. “I’m still the better cook, little sister.” 

“And also, he wouldn’t bother?!” Ryouta asked, outraged. “That man is just waiting for an opportunity to add ten more sets to my training, or something equally sadistic.” The very thought of it made Ryouta shiver. Ryoko still scared the shit out of him. “I’m a better cook than both of you anyway. Those scrambled eggs look dry." 

“She’s going to spit in your breakfast, you know.”

“Jabberwock's done it again!” The sports anchorman announced, catching Ryouta’s attention.

Completely ignoring Ayu, he settled himself in front of the television. “They’ve mercilessly crushed yet another team out of the competition in their blitz to the top!“ Ryouta moves closer to the screen. 

“You have that photo shoot in an _hour_ ,” she reminded him loudly. “No time! Trying to get you up was hell enough! God help me, why the hell did I sign up for this.”

“Jesus, fine,” Ryouta whined. “You’re so bossy.”

“Did you get any sleep last night?” asked Mizuka, completely out of nowhere.

Ryouta sighed as he moved to the bathroom without a word. Mizuka was the only one who still bothered asking anymore; Ryouta doesn’t sleep at night. Nighttime and the darkness it brought had once been a time when he’d shone the brightest. Now, it had become a curse.

He does sleep though. It just never happens at night. Like in the car on the way to a photoshoot.

“Why do you even like basketball so much.” Ayu turned on the ignition. “Jeez. Buckle up.”

 “Well, why do you like SHINee so much?” Ryouta countered.

 “I do not!” 

Ryouta hummed. “So then I didn’t have to ask Taemin for his autograph.”

Ayu grit her teeth, fingernails digging into the steering wheel. “I take it you don’t value your life,” she bit out. “Shut up, and get some shut-eye before I change my mind and put on some heavy metal.” She took her eyes off the road for a second. “And you better get me that autograph, dick.” 

So, Ryouta still doesn’t sleep at night. It didn’t matter how hard Ryoko or Ayu pushed him during training (“Can’t always keep our eyes on your shiny ass 24/7. Learn to defend yourself,” Ayu snorted, before demanding another set of pull-ups). Or how much tea Mizuka coaxed him into drinking, or how many sheep he’d counted. All Ryouta got, instead, was a deeply visceral reaction to the smell of chamomile.

The photoshoot took a long time; the creative team had insisted on muscling Ryouta into an obscene number of outfits, but it goes without a hitch as usual. The camera loved Kise Ryouta, after all.

That night, in a rare fangirl-free moment, no one else was in the area, except for one sole person in a nearby street basketball court. It should be a moment of peace, but Ryouta knew that moments like this are always the most dangerous. Fangirls were a double-edged sword – privacy was clearly a luxury with them around, but for Ryouta specifically, their presence reminded him of danger.

Which was why, like everything else that had been happening as of late, even minding his own business was going to earn him a kick in the head. Literally. And painfully.

“Ayu?! The fuck? What did I do?!” He turned behind to look at her, rubbing the back of his sore head. It was then that he noticed someone else jogging towards them. Someone who looked incredibly familiar. Someone he had seen so many times before, without him ever looking back.

“That’s mine.”

Ryouta would recognise that face, and voice, anywhere. 

“No, it’s okay!“ Ryouta put on a falsely bright voice.

 And within seconds, Ayu had somehow locked Aomine Daiki in a chokehold.

“Shouldn’t you be apologising, jackass?” She pressed a knife against Aomine’s jugular. Aomine easily towered over her, but still, horror took over his face right then.

“Oh my god!” Ryouta’s eyes widened. “Let him go! It’s fine!”

“No, it’s not fine. Apologise.”

It was cruel, really. Never had Ryouta ever anticipated that if he could ever meet Aomine in person, those blue eyes would be looking directly at him in abject fear. Ryouta feels himself sweating; he doesn’t want Aomine to die. “Seriously, Ayu –”

“Apologise to him, now,” Ayu threatened, pressing the tip of the knife just so, without actually breaking the skin. “Or I’ll make you lose a ball. One you’d actually really miss.”

“I’m sorry!” Aomine blurted out. “I’m really fucking sorry!”

“Apology accepted oh my god please let him go,” Ryouta begged, words practically overlapping into each other.

Ayu finally loosened the hold that she had on Aomine, and flipped her knife close.

“Fuck,” Aomine wheezed. “Holy shit.”

“Let’s go before any more assholes attack you while I’m not looking,” Ayu tugged Ryouta to the car by his elbow, double time. “I look away for one second – “

“He wasn’t attacking me,” Ryouta defended him. “You’re fucking _insane_.“

She shut the door in his face, before heading to the driver’s seat. “Okay, then what really happened out there?”

“You’re the one who went all psycho on some guy over an accident!” 

“You’re not telling me the truth! Your pupils were dilated, your palms were sweaty, all signs of adrenaline! You were scared!”

“I was — I – how the hell did you even notice! —“

“Well? What aren’t you telling me?” Ayu raised her voice, as she started driving the car.

“Jesus, Ayu, obviously I was going to be scared you’d cut some guy.“

“You were like that before I had that knife on him. Tell me the truth.”

“I –“ Ryouta hesitated, tired suddenly. “Alright. I know him.”

Ayu didn’t answer immediately; she fell silent at a stoplight, contemplating new data on her hands until the green light replaced it. “You know him. You’ve seen him before.”

Ryouta slowly nodded, throat suddenly dry.

“Before you crash landed. You knew him before then."

He nodded again.

And that wasn’t _reall_ y… fear. Not fear, as in, your life is in danger.”

This time, he shook his head.

“You were beginning to sweat like you just ran fifteen laps around the block, pupils dilated and everything… because… you’re attracted to him.” 

Ryouta curled into himself. “Pupils generally dilate in the dark,” he tried to deflect. 

“Stars have crushes. On people.” Ayu’s tone was almost clinical, as she completed her analysis. “Huh. Stars are kind of just little voyeuristic perverts, aren’t they?”

Ryouta went red all over right down to the follicles in his scalp. “We don’t – you guys watch us too!“ he stopped, pouting when he noticed her laughing.

“You guys totally are voyeurs.” She wiped a tear in the corner of her eye. “This is too rich.” 

“It’s nothing like that!” Ryouta whined. “Hey! You, humans, have reality television! At least I couldn’t see him when he’s in an enclosed area or blocked by something!”

“Please, you guys are fucking _voyeurs._ ” She had started cackling by then, and Ayu rarely cracked a smile on good days. “It’s okay, Ryouta. Your secret is safe with me. This is too fucking good. We’ll probably never meet that guy again anyway. But your taste! Appalling! Completely appalling.”

Ryouta pouted harder, moving to fold his arms across his chest, as he turned towards the window. A little smile came to him as he recalled how Aomine had looked at him for the first time.

 

Kise Ryouta was a star. He has made thousands of people he has never even met fall for him. But he was also a star, one of the millions that light up the sky at night. The entire point of his existence was to shine.

And yet, he believes that none of them could ever shine as brightly as Aomine Daiki.

There wasn’t much one needed to do as a star, not by the reckonings of the average, regular human. People thrived in activity, in life, in accomplishing as much as one could within what little time they had.

Some would say that it was pitiful, the desperate way humans cling on to borrowed time. Ryouta had never understood it. Not until his eyes had fixed upon Aomine, in the simple happiness one man had found in sport. Ryouta had never seen such a thing before in his life. Suddenly, he realised how pitiful it was, instead, to think that light this beautiful would someday go out.

Nearly every night, Ryouta would watch over Aomine. He’d seen Aomine get into countless of fights, almost all of which were entirely his fault. He’d seen Aomine stumble home drunk after a whole night out. But Aomine Daiki was the most beautiful whenever he played basketball.

There was little else on earth that had ever held as much of his interest. The unbridled joy and fire that emanated from Aomine could easily outshine even Sirius, silly show-offy Sirius, who had always appeared the brightest to earth. No, even Sirius could hardly hold a candle to such fluidity in movement, not unlike rapids rushing through a gorge. Or the wild, untameable winds of a storm.

When he first confessed this to Kasamatsu, he’d simply spared a glance at the boy in question curiously, and returned his attention to the proceedings of a royal coronation. A king was on his deathbed and was said to be selecting his heir before his fateful end. All eyes were on him, and his sons. But Kise never had interest in such things. He was content to watch Aomine and his friends from afar.

It didn’t matter what Kasamatsu approved of any more, though. Or any of the other stars back home. Neither did it matter how brightly Aomine shone, even from way up there. Kise hasn’t been home since he was knocked out of the skies one day, sent hurtling into the earth's atmosphere… and hunted.

Ryouta had shut his eyes for a second back then; and maybe that, right there, had been his mistake. If he hadn't been so intent on looking for Aomine, he would’ve been able to dodge the odd jewel that had so rudely looped over his head, and pulled him back to earth, before crash landing in a crumpled heap on a field.

He hadn’t been one to pay attention to the murmurings among the stars, but Ryouta knows one thing for certain.

The earth is not a safe place for stars.

A sudden chill coursed through his very bloodstream as he looked around him, and then, very slowly, very fearfully, for the first time as a star, for once, looked _up_.

Ryouta was very, very far away from home.

 

Back then, the tears that had started prickling in the back of his eyes seemed to dry just as quickly as he jumped at every minuscule movement around him. And then it occurred to him. A Babylon candle, he thought to himself. A Babylon candle could take him home.

But first, he would just have to move and seek shelter somehow. Ryouta wrapped hands around the chain, unclasped it, and tossed it to the ground, resisting the urge to stamp on it in frustration. He didn’t know where he was, but surely a large crater out of nowhere was a clear indicator of a fallen star. He wasn’t that stupid. Someone was bound to notice sooner or later. He needed to run. 

Pain lanced through his side, cutting into his plans. Because, of course, Ryouta had just taken a fall, and his leg was paying for it. It took everything in him not to scream in frustration. The moon had only just risen, and the night was still young, but Ryouta was already exhausted.

“You there!”

Ryouta had frozen. Someone had already found him. He had to move, now. Quickly, Ryouta moved to his feet. But as soon as he did, his vision before him started to swim. When he came to, Ryouta found himself in one of those beds he’d seen humans lie in and sleep. It was soft and warm to the touch, and Ryouta had never felt more unsafe in his entire life. There were two humans in the room – one of them, a gruff-looking, greying man, was watching him from the corner, the other one darting about the place.

“Where am I?” Ryouta had dared himself to ask. He was relieved to find that his voice did not sound as thready as he had felt.

The man in the corner of the room was still staring at him, almost unblinkingly. “Safe. For now.”

It was a response that was entirely unhelpful, and the complete opposite of illuminating.

“Hush, you’re making him feel the exact opposite,” the lady scolded, before finally stopping, and turning a smile on Ryouta.

“ _Shina_.”

Her shoulders drooped. “I know. I know, okay? He needs to understand some things first. Anyone lost and without any means of going home would want that. It’s the least we can do since we can’t send him back up there. She would have wanted that.”

“You know what I am,” said Ryouta slowly. It wasn’t a question.

The lady sighed a little. “I’d promise we won’t harm you. But that would be exactly what anyone who wanted a piece of a star’s heart would say, wouldn’t it?”

Ryouta watched her closely. “So why should I trust you, then?”

“You shouldn’t,” the man in the corner said as he moved out of the shadows. (In future, after Ryouta watches enough movies, he’d look back on this moment, and think of how much of a stereotype Ryoko was.) His face was forgettable, and he was dressed simply, practically, made to be on the move.

“I’ve mended your legs.” Her demeanour seemed… kind. “You should be able to move freely now. My name is Shina. My husband is Ryoko.” Shina sighed. “But my husband is right. We can’t risk anything. You shouldn’t trust anyone. We won’t even force you to stay with us. But you should know that beyond the mountains, there is a woman already looking for you. In Osaka, someone is packing their bags for the same purpose. And there will be others. Others who will always hunt you down. Stars are never safe on earth.”

Ryouta knew. Ryouta had known that much was true. 

“I… I don’t have much power—“

 _Power_.

“You’re a witch.” Ryouta distanced himself from her. “Get away from me.”

The man had snorted.

“Ryoko,” she had scolded him again, then turned to Ryouta. “I can’t make you believe me, but I have no interest in prolonging my life. I was taken when I was young, by those witches who’d seen the power I had. And I grew up hating what I am. I… the only things I learnt were to protect and heal. Then I ran away. Through necessity, I’d gotten very good at hiding. This earring –“ She pointed towards Ryouta’s ear. He startled at the movement. “It’s a cloaking device. No one will be able to use rune stones or magic to find you. Unless you tell them what you are, no one will be able to know.”

Ryouta reached an arm to his ear and gasped when his fingers came into contact with cool metal.

“Stars aren’t exactly known, or built, for subtlety,” she continued. “When you fell, others knew. Others who want your heart. They’re already looking for you. It’s really sheer luck that we found you first.”

“Babylon candles —“

“Unfortunately, Babylon candles are few and far between now.”

Perhaps Ryouta should have paid more attention to the rest of the world, or at least to the confines of the wall. He’d had the advantage of seeing everything. He could have known where he might have been able to find the one thing that could take him home.

“What’s your name?” She had asked, voice as gentle as ever.

Ryouta hesitated. “How do I know you’re not just asking for my name for whatever spell you’re conjuring? 

“Shina,” came the gruff voice from the shadows.

She nodded, gently waving a hand at her taciturn husband. “Alright. It’s funny. My father uses to tell me that stars looked back. I kind of expected them to keep an eye on one of their own. Probably would’ve made this much, much easier to explain. I knew you didn’t know as soon as I saw the fear in your eyes.”

“What...?” Ryouta’s head spun.

“I was descended from a star.”

Ryouta fell silent. He’d known that the last time a star had fallen, she had fallen even further – in love. Eventually, she had returned home to them with the love of her life, but she had left her grandchildren’s children behind. It was then that he finally noticed the amber in her eyes. The mark of a star.

“But if you are,” Ryouta began slowly. “Why didn’t they cut your heart out?”

“Because I’m not a star,” she said simply, with a smile. “Not really. Only the pure heart of a star has the power to extend a human’s life. I can probably live longer than the average human, but that’s it. Even then… I don’t think I could ever live for very long without Ryoko. You really didn’t know?”

“Kasamatsu always did scold me for not paying attention,” Ryouta mumbled. Ryouta dug his fingers into his side. His leg really wasn’t injured anymore. “I… I guess I’ll… but you said we have to move now, right?”

She nodded. “We do.”

There were a few quick knocks on the door before it opened, revealing a younger blonde woman. Her expression was stern, as though battle-ready, but it somehow managed to highlight her striking features.

“Why is everything taking so long?” she asked.

“Ayu,” said Shina, voice pacifying.

“I’ll stay,” Ryouta spoke out, then as an afterthought, to be clear, “For now.”

Shina nodded. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

Ryouta didn’t sleep that first night on earth, not even after they’d reached their safehouse in Tokyo. Nor did he actually sleep at night, in spite of how he swaddled himself in blankets. Ryouta learnt to appreciate the warmth and the comfort of blankets and pillows, but sleep continued to evade him, years later. Some nights, he spent them in bed, on the off-chance that he’d miraculously fall into slumber. Other nights, he spent them in front of the television. Muted, of course, after he’d figured out that a well-rested Ryoko was a Ryoko who tortured others during training less.

“We seriously need to fix your sleeping patterns.” Mizuka had sighed once, brushing his hair off his forehead. “How about watching the longest movie in history.”

“I’ve been awake at night all my life." Ryouta had rolled over Mizuka's lap to face her. "It’s not like there’s a switch I can flick off.” 

Ayu had scoffed. “It’s been years, dumbass.” 

“I’m a dumbass?” Ryouta had snapped. “You’re the one who just got fired for punching a customer.”

“Well, at least I can intimidate the manager into putting in a good word for my next job!” 

“Because that’s all you’re really good for, aren’t you?!”

“Why you little—“

Mizuka had sighed, holding her sister back. “You two are such children.”

So it wasn’t exactly part of the plan for Ryouta to get a job. But eventually, after months of being cooped up indoors, with nothing but endless training to look forward to, Ryouta had grown incredibly curious about the world. All he’d seen of it was through the media. He’d had so much time on his hands that he’d even started experimenting in the kitchen. And as it turned out, he wasn’t so bad in the kitchen.

But this story isn’t really about Ryouta’s surprising skill in the kitchen.

“I want to do something, too,” Ryouta had insisted that day.

“You’re doing great, sweetie,” Mizuka had patted his cheek. Ayu hadn't even bothered with a response.

“Why not? I’m serious. I can’t just freeload off you all forever. I'm useless.”

Mizuka had smiled sweetly. "You're not useless. Your pretty face puts me in a good mood every morning. I get to talk to someone other than Ayu.” 

“What skills do you even have to offer?" Ayu rolled her eyes. "Shining? Unless you’re thinking of applying for a job as a streetlamp…”

“There’s a woman –“ Ryouta had flinched as he realised what he just said. “I… Don’t kill me.” 

“What woman?” Ayu’s voice was low and suspicious. “What did you do?” 

“I… I left the house," Ryouta had muttered.

“You what.”

“I left the house, okay! It was a beautiful day! I wanted to see what it was like! I’ve never seen Japan in daylight before. And I’m still all in one piece, aren’t I?”

“Jesus, Ryouta. You could’ve died! Not that I’d care, but mum _would_ \--”

“Just. Hear me out, okay. A woman gave me her business card, and told me she could offer me a work type thing!”

“What work type thing?” 

Ryouta rubbed the back of his head. “Modelling? Said something about my face…”

And that had been that. Over time, Ryouta had become a master conman, bamboozling the masses into falling in love with his pretty smiles, his mesmerising masks. His face is plastered all over Tokyo; and still, no one knew what he was. None had come to claim his heart for eternal life.

Ryouta and Ayu had unexpectedly fallen into their roles easily. Every night, though, their pace was quick, brisk without completely breaking into a run. Ayu would always trail a step behind him, a silent watchful presence. Nighttime, after all, had still turned what Ryouta is best at into the one thing that could ultimately kill him.

And daytime was when Ryouta pretended to be human.

“Newcomers Vorpal Swords pulled a stunning victory, against Jabberwocky!” The sports anchorman announced, catching Ryouta’s attention.

Completely ignoring a disgruntled Ayu, the focus of his attention snapped to the television. Jabberwocky had never been defeated before.

"Power forward Aomine Daiki –"

Ryouta’s breath caught in his throat at the familiar face, and he moved closer to the screen, unthinkingly.

“You have that meeting in an _hour_ ,” she reminded him loudly. “No time! Seriously, _why_ the hell did I sign up for this.”

Ryouta didn’t grace that with a response, eyes fixed on Aomine as he effortlessly secured a victory for the team. Aomine. The brightest star in the world.

 _Aomine._  

“Seriously!” Ayu snapped her fingers in front of him. “We have to go!” 

It did little to move Ryouta from where he was seated, eagerly absorbing every little detail, every little analysis by the commentator, who was almost just as awed as Ryouta was by Aomine’s prowess. That was until the television was unceremoniously switched off. Ryouta looked up to see Ayu rolling her eyes; Mizuka watched him curiously, wordlessly. 

 

\---

 

Life went on, days after his first meeting with Aomine, as was always the case with life on earth. Ryouta continued to put on a smile for every camera aimed his way and never bumped into Aomine near the basketball court where they’d first met that night. It was a fluke, he told himself. A chance meeting that was never meant to repeat itself. The thought was extremely depressing, given the circumstances of their meeting. He’d probably made an extremely poor impression on him, and there was no undoing it. 

He met thousands of people in his line of work, but he was never going to meet Aomine again.

And yet, somehow, he never anticipated that the next time he would meet the only human he truly wanted to see again would be for all of Japan to see.

“Ayu,” said Ryouta, eyes fixed on a very familiar face across the room. “Please don't turn around."

She squinted at him. "What. Why?"

"You look very pretty today."

"Funny. Very soon you'll be cast in a comedy," Ayu deadpanned as she did the opposite of what Ryouta told her to do. “Is that who I think it is?"

Ryouta gulped. "Probably not... It's probably just... a doppelganger or something..."

"That fucker is on this show." Ayu ignored him, flipping through the paperwork, cursing under her breath when she found what she was looking for. "What even is the theme of this episode? Wouldn't an idol make more sense? That one extremely popular member is graduating from AKB48, that would make a whole lot more fucking sense than some random ass basket case.” 

“ _Please_ don’t injure him, Ayu --”

“I’m not going to!” Ayu protested. “I’m just gonna give ‘em a bit of a shiner. No one would even notice. Seriously, how do you even like this guy? Your taste really is appalling. He looks like a grade A asshole. Look at him sitting there, like he doesn’t have time for any of this shit and we should all be worshipping the ground he walks on. He’s just cruising for a bruising --”

Ryouta tugged on her arm. “Come on… let’s just go and get my makeup done, okay?”

But of course, the powers that be decided that he was going to have to face Aomine Daiki sooner, rather than later. Right in the midst of getting his foundation fixed. Accompanied by another extremely familiar face he was used to seeing from up in the sky.

“You’re Kise Ryouta,” said Momoi Satsuki, the one and only Momoi Satsuki, as she bowed politely at them.

Ryouta unconsciously rubbed at the nape of his neck. “Eh? You know me?” 

Immediately, Ryouta recognised his question for an incredibly stupid one. He winced inwardly.

“I think most people know you,” Momoi smiled at him. Right. Of course. Ryouta pulled his hand back to his side, embarrassed. Her smile is gentle and kind like he’d always remembered her. But her eyes were appraising, studying him.

“Satsuki, I’m already bored,” a familiar deep voice muttered. The bottom of Ryouta’s stomach bottomed out. Momoi and Aomine have always been a package deal; sooner or later, one would usually be accompanied by the other. Ryouta waited for it. The moment of recognition. And when it happened, the latter’s blue eyes widened. “Shit.”

Momoi’s gaze swiftly shifted between Ryouta and Aomine. It was becoming quite clear that she was quickly putting two and two together. Ryouta could practically see the gears turning in her head. 

“Oh, Dai-chan,” Momoi tsked. “You didn’t tell me the whole story. She’s his bodyguard. She’s just doing her job. Kise’s face is his livelihood; I don’t blame her at all.”

Ayu snorted, causing Aomine to turn to the source of the sound, and immediately back away as recognition dawned on him, putting more distance between them.

“I didn’t hit his face, Satsuki,” said Aomine, defensive. “And how should I know who he is?”

“You’re the only one who doesn’t know,” Momoi countered. “It wouldn’t hurt to know things outside of basketball, you know. Honestly, Dai-chan, you’re a little bit stupid.”

“I like her,” Ayu declared, before pointing a free finger at him. “I got my eye on you, kid. No more funny business."

“What? You think I’m going to throw something else at him?”

“No more funny business," she repeated herself. "E _specially_ throwing things at my little brother.”

“Leave him alone, Ayu –" Ryouta began to say.

“Sister. Really.” Aomine drawled. “I thought you were his mother.” 

Ryouta winced, then hurriedly moved to hold his pretend sister back before it was too late.

“Do you want to fucking die?!” Ayu screamed at Aomine, fingers clawing in the air, as Aomine stepped backwards, making a face. "Let me GO, Ryouta!"

"I don't want you in prison!" Ryouta yelled back. "How am I supposed to explain this to mother?!"

Because of course, every time he met Aomine was going to result in mayhem. Even just watching Aomine from afar had resulted in mayhem. Ryouta was here. On earth. Holding back another human from beating Aomine to a pulp.

Eventually, Ryouta managed to settle Ayu down, partly with the threat of the studio's security. Aomine, on the other hand, spent most of the rest of the day, and the start of the actual interview civilly enough. No spherical objects, or anything else for that matter, were lobbed at Ryouta’s head. It was apparent to Ryouta, though, how much Aomine struggled to disguise his complete discomfort as he restlessly shifted in his seat. Momoi had probably put him up to this, or something similar.

Feeling sorry for him, Ryouta managed to shift the focus of the topic back to basketball, happily discussing the last Vorpal Swords match. 

“You like basketball?” Aomine interrupted the host, eyes on Ryouta. 

Ryouta nodded enthusiastically. “I mean, I’ve never been able to see any matches in person, but I watch them whenever I can on TV. I’m becoming a huge Vorpal Swords fan! I really admire the way you play. Midorima always gets the loudest cheers for his three-pointers, but the way you play it, ah, it’s really amazing the way you play. Really amazing.”

“Huh.” Aomine stared. “You don’t look like the type.” 

“What type did you have Kise-san pegged as, Aomine-san?” The host asked, eagerly jumping on this new strand of development.

“Dunno. Just different, I guess. Models don’t really care about basketball, do they?” 

“Loads of celebrities attend your games, Aomine-san.” 

Aomine shrugged. “Some of them pay more attention to trying to pretend not to pay any attention at all to the paparazzi cameras. It’s hard to tell.”

It wasn’t entirely untrue for some, but Ryouta had a feeling that it was something that Aomine wasn’t actually supposed to say. Feeling the inexplicable need to prevent him from expanding further on that particular topic, Ryouta quickly jumped in.

“So is your impression of me now better than before?” Ryouta dared himself to ask.

Aomine hesitated for a while. “I guess... a person who likes basketball can’t be that bad.”

“Is that an Aomine stamp of approval?”

Aomine tsked, but a corner of his lips twitched upwards. “You talk a lot of nonsense, Kise.”

“Well, Aominecchi doesn’t seem so bad in person, either.” Ryouta was beaming happily, heart practically bursting at the seams.

“Eh? What did you call me?” 

Ryouta only laughed, without offering an explanation. _Aomine doesn’t hate him._ If Ryouta could say so himself, it was one of the best interviews he’d ever given. It didn’t feel like effort at all.

Ayu, however, did not quite share the same sentiments.

“Fucking hell,” Ayu hissed. “That was like watching an accident in slow motion.”

Ryouta startled. “What? I thought it went really well!”

“You didn’t even know,” said Ayu, slowly. "He doesn't know," she muttered to herself. 

“Know what?”

“You were glowing. Jesus Christ on a fucking pogo stick. You were fucking glowing. I think I stopped believing you could even glow for a while, I've literally never seen.. but you... fucking glowed.”

Ryouta stiffened, as the same fear gripped him the first night returned to him. He hadn’t been able to shine ever since the fall. It had never been a problem for him. Until now.

“That’s fucking right," said Ayu. "Thank fucking god, the lights were on full fucking blast. It doesn’t... you can't really see it on screen. With any luck, no one who wasn’t actually looking for it would actually notice. Jesus, Ryouta."

Across the room, Aomine and Momoi were exiting the building together. Ryouta bit his lip as he watched Aomine's back disappear around the bend. 

"I suppose," Ayu began. "At least the both of you have something else in common. You both have a death wish.” 

Ryouta shifted uncomfortably. “I think he’s scared of you,” he said, attempting a smile.

“That little punk ass should be,” she growled. “One of these days, I’ll really kick his ass.”


End file.
